


Necessary Arrangements

by vatnalilja



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22094737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vatnalilja/pseuds/vatnalilja
Summary: The Jarl of Whiterun is the Dragonborn's greatest ally and perhaps the only truly decent man in all of Skyrim. He deserves some love.
Relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Comments: 3
Kudos: 128





	Necessary Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> I've kept the Dragonborn as generic as possible.

She opened the front door, her brow furrowed. Who the hell would be knocking at this time of night? It wasn't that she was in bed, but she was certainly minding her own business, winding down for the evening. She liked Breezehome quiet, which is why she didn't even allow Lydia to live there. It wasn't that she was known for being unapproachable in town--quite the contrary. But no one ever bothered her after she left the tavern.

On her doorstep was a figure in a heavy cloak with its hood pulled down low. In a town where people put a lot of weight on their name and walked around freely, it seemed a bit extreme.

"Let me in before anyone wonders why I am at your door."

She pulled the door open enough for him to slip through, immediately recognizing the voice. Why he was here, she hadn't the faintest clue. After the door was closed and locked behind him, he pushed the hood back and looked around the small house. While her home was microscopic compared to Dragonsreach, it was certainly cozier and far less drafty.

"I knew you had a habit of sneaking out to the Mare, but this seems unorthodox even for you," she said.

He unhooked his cloak and hung it on the pegs near the door.

"Every day, life is the same for me. I could use a bit of mead and a chat with a friend whose life is far more interesting than mine," Balgruuf said.

She smirked and motioned to the chairs by the fire.

"I'll get a bottle," she said.

They settled down with several bottles she pulled from a well-stocked cabinet and made small talk for a bit. She hadn't seen him without his circlet on, so it was a bit strange to see him in plainclothes. His facial features were classically Nord even out of his finer clothes, and he carried a sense of strength and honor. He also now smiled when they chatted in a way she hadn't seen before. He had let his guard down completely here, with her. With no Proventus or Irileth to harass him, he was much more at ease.

"This is precisely what I needed," he said after they opened the second bottle of mead.

As she poured him a refill, he watched her carefully, his eyes tracing along her form. She was his greatest ally--she had saved his city from civil war. With her, he had done things he could have never dreamed. For a brief period, she had made his typically uneventful life exciting. She had helped him carve out a hero's name for himself in the history of Whiterun and Skyrim. Perhaps all of Tamriel.

"Can I ask you something personal?" he asked.

"Anything," she said.

"There's a rumor around the keep that you and Farengar are intimate," he said.

She let out a loud laugh, fumbling the bottle a bit before catching it and setting it on the floor between them.

"We're talking about your court mage, right? There isn't a woman alive who could interrupt his research," she said.

"It isn't true, then? The two of you seem so close."

"No, Balgruuf. It's not true," she said. "I enjoy his company, but only in an academic sense."

"Good," he said, seemingly pleased with her response.

After a long, quiet moment, he sighed.

"I should go. It is late."

He made no move to stand, but his entire demeanor had changed. Once cheerful, he now looked sullen. It was clear he didn't want to leave, but the keep would be up in arms if he wasn't there in the morning.

"Don't go anywhere," she said.

She stood and disappeared for several minutes, leaving him to watch the fire. When she returned, she had an envelope bearing her seal in wax. As she opened the front door, he watched her motion a city guard over, to whom she handed the message. With that, the guard was gone and she was closing the door with a smile.

"There. Now you are accounted for."

"I'm still going to get an ear full... but thank you," he said.

"I serve milord," she said, giving him a shallow curtsy.

He snorted.

"Never do that again," he said. "It doesn't suit you."

He picked up the bottle and held it out for her. She quickly found her cup and let him fill it, standing in front of him. His eyes traveled up her body and he found her looking back down at him. He hadn't come here with lewd intentions--he had come to talk to a friend, or so he had convinced himself. But by the Eight, she was bewitching. And she had sent a message back to the keep, to what end? To not panic in the morning, because he was still here? Drunk? Hungover? In her bed? Or perhaps a combination thereof.

"So, you have me for the night, Dragonborn. What would you do with your Jarl?" he asked.

"I won't call you 'milord' if you stop calling me 'Dragonborn'," she said, taking the bottle from him to refill his cup.

"It's a deal," he said with a chuckle, his mood lifting once again.

Maybe he hadn't come with lewd intentions, but the way her eyes had met his had him paging through his memories, indexing every time she had given him an opportunity he hadn't taken due to cowardice. Like the time he awoke to her sitting on the side of his bed, having come to tell him she was off to Solstheim to deal with Miraak, her eyes filled with worry she might not return. He should have taken her in his arms then.

"Shall we sit and chat for another hour or so or shall we skip all of that?" he asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Damnit woman," he said. "Must I spell it out?"

With a roguish grin, she sipped her mead, resting her other hand on her hip, which she jutted out for good measure. There wasn't another person alive who could tease him, but she had earned her familiarity with him. He sucked a bit of air between his teeth and ran a hand through his blonde hair, then sighed heavily.

She excited him in a way nothing had before. When she captured Odahviing on the porch, he had found himself aroused by her power and courage. He doubted Dibella herself could excite him as much as she had in that moment. He had spent nights dreaming about her, but he assumed she had plenty of lovers and the Jarl of Whiterun didn't quite rise to a hero's standards. Yet here they were and the look she was giving him dared him to betray his fantasies.

She was giving him another opportunity.

He hadn't ever been in Breezehome, but it was clear the bedroom was not on the first floor. He stood and took her by the elbow, steering her toward the stairs. She went up ahead of him and took several steps backward once they reached the second story, facing him. She bumped up to and leaned against the closed bedroom door, blocking the entrance.

"Say it, Balgruuf," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Just open the door," he said.

"But why?" she urged.

He made a disgruntled noise and moved her aside by her hips. His hand found the handle and he turned it, the door swinging inward into the bedroom. Grabbing her again, he dragged her into the room with him. She downed her cup of mead and set it on her dresser as he moved her along. Eventually, he pulled her into him and pressed his mouth against hers. She gripped his shirt, bunching it up in her hands, and she could feel his strong chest underneath.

Without another word, they quickly undressed, helping each other with their buckles and clasps, their clothes in a pile in the middle of the room. He pulled her down into her bed with him and wrapped his lips around her nipple, flicking it with his tongue while his hand moved down along her stomach and across the soft hair marking where her thighs met.

He earned himself a small groan from her when his fingers glided through her folds and found her clit. That was all the encouragement he needed and he began rubbing her bud in a small circle. Her legs parted, her knees falling wide, making it easier for him. He lifted his head from her chest and watched her face as he increased the speed of his index and middle finger, which were pushed into her now swollen clit. His motions were practiced, the small circles turning into quick line back and forth.

"I want to come with you inside me," she whispered, feeling the tugging, electric sensation begin to well in her groin.

Without a word, he removed his hand and almost immediately, she yearned for his touch. He rolled her over onto her stomach and nudged her legs open so he could kneel between them. She let out a small, surprised laugh, propping her forearms underneath her. He teased her lips with the head of his cock for a bit, enjoying what he could see in the dim light. He then slowly slid himself into her, watching as her labia engulfed his shaft. She jostled slightly as she moved her hand back to play with herself.

His movement was deliberate as he pulled almost entirely out of her before pushing back in. His hands ran along her buttocks, squeezing them as his hips met her frame. The way her ass bounced in response was glorious. After a bit, his pace quickened as the desire to come overtook his desire to admire her body. His breathing was now noticeable and each thrust was deep, making her mew in a variety of ways. The sounds she made only intensified his need to come. His grip on her tightened and he began pulling her back into him with the same force he used to drive himself into her.

She pushed her face into a pillow as her breath became unpredictable, while her fingers raced along her clit. The speed with which he fucked her lit up her body and brought her to the brink of orgasm. The intense stimulation both within and without was almost too much to bear. Her mouth opened wide as the pleasure cascaded through her body, emanating from her abdomen. A long groan then escaped her, muffled by the bedding.

"Where should I come?" he asked, his voice impatient.

He needed an answer quickly as her muscles pulsed and quivered around his cock.

"Inside," she said.

It was practically a demand, one with which he would not argue.

He slammed his body against hers a few more times and then felt the heat explode in his core. He continued thrusting as he came, his voice joining hers. Moments later, he felt his muscles begin to quiver and his strength quickly fade. She let her backside remain in the air for a bit while he collapsed alongside her, the two of them letting the bliss run its course. Eventually, she rolled onto her side and looked over at him. He was still catching his breath, staring up at the rafters, but once he felt her gaze, he looked to her and a broad grin spread across his otherwise exhausted looking face. 

He pulled her close to him, even they were both damp with sweat. She ran her hand through the hair on his chest, draping an arm over him.

"The mead's on you next time," she said.

"The mead and anything else you want, my dear," he said, then drew her into a slow, tender kiss.

\---

Balgruuf gave her a small wave of his fingers as she made her way through the great hall to Farengar's study. The Jarl was currently listening to a Battle-Born gripe about something immaterial and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. She mimed drinking from a cup as she reached the wooden doorway. He nodded very slightly and turned his attention back to his present audience.

After another thirty minutes, Balgruuf found her and the mage finishing up a game of tafl. He leaned on the back of her chair and watched the two of them make their final moves. She may have been smarter than most gave her credit, but Farengar was better at the long game than she was. He moved his king off the side of the board and sat back, looking quite content.

"Glad to see you're not a killer of kings, my dear," Balgruuf said. "I'm stealing her now."

"By all means," Farengar said. "I don't want to bruise her ego too badly."

She stood, giving Farengar a friendly glare, then strolled out with the Jarl. He led her up the stairs, past the porch, and to the keep's private quarters. Dinner would be ready soon and he had made a habit of having an extra chair ready for her. They made their way to his office, where he closed the door behind them. From a shelf, he pulled some mead and goblets that were nicer than anything she used on a daily basis.

"A drink before the food is ready," he said.

He poured them each a serving and he clanked his goblet to hers.

"Irileth can't scold me if I'm home," he said. "I know the walk isn't far, but frankly, I could use a good deal of these, so why don't you plan on spending the night."

"As a thane to her Jarl, I can't say no," she said.

He set the bottle on his desk and used that moment as an opportunity to close the distance between them. She felt her skin tingle as it went goose flesh. There were only a few inches between them and the look he was giving her made her heart skip several beats.

"You've never had to say no to me because you always convince me to say yes to whatever impossible ideas you dream up," he said.

He looked down at her over the rim of his goblet as he took a drink.

"I've never met anyone like you," he continued. "I suppose that sounds idiotic, because nobody in all of Tamriel has met anyone like you. There's one thing I don't understand, though."

She perked her brow. He was never shy to compliment her or to reward her for her bravery. She was his only thane, after all.

He rested his hand on the top of her head gently.

"You are a hero of legend. Your story will be passed down for centuries. Yet, you spend much of your time in Whiterun in a tiny house when you could be in a palace somewhere," he said, his fingers in her hair.

"I already am," she said.

His eyes softened.

"This is far from a palace, my dear."

"But I can't trap a dragon in the Blue Palace," she said.

He moved even closer and leaned down, when at that moment came a knock on the door. He sighed and kissed her forehead, then stepped back to put a respectable space between them.

"I guarantee that it's Proventus," he said with a grumble. "Enter!"

Avenicci opened the door and stuck his head in.

"Milord, if I could get your signature on a few things before dinner," Proventus said.

The steward looked from the Jarl to her, then back to the Jarl.

"I can wait until tomorrow," he said.

"No, come in. If I do it now, then it will be done," Balgruuf said.

The Jarl sat at his desk and Proventus stepped in carrying a stack of papers. She wandered over to the window to look down at the city as the steward went over everything with Balgruuf, who dutifully added his signature to several items. Sitting on the windowsill, she watched the two of them. He wasn't wrong. She could be in Solitude or even Imperial City. But her experience in Skyrim began with him and her loyalty wasn't out of duty--of all the people in Tamriel, she trusted him the most.

He slid a look to her as Proventus droned on about the contents of the paperwork, which seemed to go on forever.

"Damnit Proventus, how much more is there?"

"Only two more milord," Proventus said.

He hurried through the final sheets, then gathered it all up and made his way out of the office, shooting them a few last looks. When the door closed behind him, Balgruuf stood and made his way to her.

"I've been meaning to ask if it's bothersome to not have a door to your bedroom, but a door wouldn't keep anyone out anyway," she said.

"I've got guards to keep others out," he said, sliding between her legs, his hands resting on the tops of her thighs.

"Yes, but guards don't keep sound from traveling."

"I don't typically make much noise in my bedchambers," he said. "And even if I did, I'm the Jarl for gods' sake. I think I'm entitled."

"It just seems a little… awkward," she said. "Doesn't it?"

He grinned.

"What's the matter? Planning on making a lot of noise in my bedchambers?"

Her face flushed almost immediately.

"I'm just thinking hypothetically, that's all," she said quietly.

The sound of a small bell rang outside, indicating dinner was ready. He gently squeezed her legs and then moved his hands to her waist, sliding her off the windowsill and up against his chest. With a finger, he lifted her chin and kissed her softly.

"We should go," she said softly after several long moments.

"You're right," he said, kissing her again.

His body demanded more. The idea of eating right now was of very little concern to him. Several options ran through his head as he slid his arms around her. Some of them involved his desk while the others the wall. His fingers gripped the fabric of her tunic at her back. She began laughing and pulled her face away. He could see the glimmer in her eyes, the mischievous tug at the corners of her mouth. She then stepped back and took his hand, pulling him along toward the door.

"We have time," she said.

He cursed quietly and followed her. This was going to a long meal.

Once all pleasantries had been handled and the food cleared, the Jarl ordered everyone to stay out of his chambers for the evening aside from his guards. The adults' eyes darted between Balgruuf and the Dragonborn, who was staring at the wall across from her as hard as she could. He made it quite clear that he was not to be bothered under any circumstances short of Talos himself walking into the keep.

After the dining room emptied, Balgruuf sat back in his chair and sighed, looking over at her. She gave him an embarrassed smile and sipped her wine. He has made such a show of it that there could be no doubt in anyone's mind what he intended. At least, there wouldn't be after the gossip.

"Right to the point, eh?" she said.

"I suppose you want Proventus to walk in with a pile of god forsaken paperwork?"

She chuckled and glanced at the enormous bed about 20 feet behind him. He leaned over and refilled her goblet with red wine nearly to the brim. She turned her attention back to her drink, leaning over to sip some of it from the rim before lifting the cup to her lips.

"Come over here," he said.

She stood and approached his chair at the head of the table, bringing her drink with her. He grabbed her hips and pulled her into his lap gently. Once she was seated, he pulled her ass down firmly into his groin. A small, breathy moan escaped him. If he weren't wearing this damn long tunic...

She hadn't worn trousers under her own tunic, a fact that hadn't escaped his notice. She had practically flashed him back in his office there on the windowsill while he signed papers. As she drank her wine, he tugged on her tunic until he had pulled its hem up to her ass. As he lifted the fabric to reveal her buttocks, he groaned again. He then managed to get a small squeal out of her as he squeezed her cheeks.

"Your guard is literally right there," she said, watching the back of the guard stationed at the doorway that connected the dining room to the stairway landing.

"I do not care," he said, practically growling.

He pulled at his own tunic now and she shifted her weight to allow him to bring its bottom up. He wiggled slightly and once he had it bunched up at his waist, he tugged the top of his trousers down, freeing his cock. Immediately, he pressed his erection against the line where her buttocks met. She could feel its heat against her skin, which made her blush again. Her head felt fuzzy and she wasn't sure if it was from the drink or his touch.

"Sit up a bit," he said quietly.

She lifted her weight, leaning over the table. Doing so revealed her pussy to him. With one hand, he stroked himself and with the other, he prodded her folds. Resting her elbows on the table, she lifted her ass up in the air a bit more and he slid a finger into her, delighting in how wet she was.

"Gods," he whispered.

He withdrew his finger and ran his head along her, positioning it at her opening. He then grabbed her hips again and pulled her back onto him.

"Fuck," she muttered, gripping the table to stabilize herself as he pushed into her.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her around him. His fingers dug into her flesh as he thrust himself upwards once, giving her a good bounce on his lap. He took a deep, long breath and then began rhythmically bucking himself up against her.

As nice as he felt, she couldn't help but stare at the landing. The guard on the left hand side standing in front of the door to the quarters there had a fairly good view of what was happening and when she glanced in his direction, his eyes met hers for a brief moment before he looked directly ahead of him. She suddenly felt tremendously filthy.

"Balgruuf," she said softly.

Hearing her say his name made his cock jump and his body tingle with delight. He opened his eyes and watched as her ass bounced up and down on his erection.

"They can see us."

"Let them. They know better than to wag their tongues," he said.

He grabbed her and stood, fumbling to turn her around. He cleared the table, pushing everything aside, and laid her down on her back, then sat down again and leaned in to bury his face into her pussy. She covered her eyes with both hands as she felt his tongue on her, pointed and eager. He had the skill of an experienced lover and the desire of a man who had gone too long with no one to please.

It was a surprise to her how quickly she came, the orgasm bursting through her like tinder sparked by a sudden strike of lightning. She pressed the heels of her palms into her mouth, stifling any noises that came out. And as she squeaked, she felt him stand again and grab her legs. She was still vibrating when he slipped back inside of her. Peeking through her fingers, she looked up at him--his face was strained, his mouth open, his heavy breaths marked with moans.

"By the gods, woman, you feel so good."

She would say the same for him, but every time she opened her mouth, the sounds that came out were far from words. He understood all the same.

This time, he didn't ask. He planted his hands flat on the table as he rammed into her a few final times. His breathing was ragged as he slowed to a stop and stayed there for a while, leaning over her. When he had recovered, he pulled her upright so he could kiss her face and neck. She murmured in satisfaction, her body heavy in his arms.

He then tugged his trousers up and helped her off the table. They drifted into his bedroom, where they both fell into his bed. She helped him out of his things, caressing him and peppering him with her own kisses before tossing her clothes aside. They pulled the blankets over their tired bodies and she rested her head on his bicep as his fingers curled lazily through her hair.

"I know that I have no right in claiming you for myself, but I ask that you consider staying by my side," he said with a yawn.

"You keep doing that with your tongue and I'll have no reason to stray," she said.

"I have plenty of ways to keep you happy, my dear."

She let out a small, happy sigh and nestled into him.

"Then I might as well sell Breezehome," she said.

"Aye. You might as well.”


End file.
